


Tick Tock Goes the Clock

by queenofthepuddingbrains



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthepuddingbrains/pseuds/queenofthepuddingbrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sam and Cas research ways to restore Dean's humanity, Cas undertakes a ritual to ease the path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick Tock Goes the Clock

**Author's Note:**

> This is post "Do You Believe in Miracles?" For the sake of the events here, Dean is still at the Bunker, isolated in the dungeon while Sam and Cas try to find a way to fix him.

**_Beep. Beep_ .  _Beep._ **

The sound of the alarm was shrill in the silence of the Bunker’s library.  Castiel’s attention was pulled from the ancient text he was studying to the digital watch secured around his wrist.  Cas moved quickly to silence the annoying sound.  His fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons, still unused to the machine’s operation, for all that its overly bright packaging had promised it to be “easy to use”.   _(Hurry up, Cas.  That sound means you're "out of minutes.")_    

Finally successful, Cas glanced across the table at Sam, ready to apologize for the interruption.  But Sam was still involved in his own work.  His brow furrowed in thought, his fingers dutifully scanned each line in the Men of Letters’ file he was reading.  He gave no indication that he’d even heard the alarm, much less been bothered by it.

Cas sighed, and stood up from the table.  Sam, again, took no notice.  Now that Castiel’s attention had been called to it, he was keenly aware of the unfamiliar presence of the watch on his wrist.  The weight of it felt wrong.  Its presence was oppressive and a part of him deeply resented its necessity.  As an angel, he was unused to being slave to the conventions of human time.  He had stood watch over entire human lifetimes.  He had observed the flutter of a bee’s wings slipping between seconds.  Both had been equal in his view.  But now… ( _Seriously, dude, the bees again?)_

Cas shook himself from his thoughts as he exited the library and began to walk down the hallway.  Such ruminations would not do anyone any good right now.  The timing of this ritual was important, and he had elected to mark the time in order to ensure it was kept on track.  Surely some existential inconvenience on his end would be worth it when their goal was accomplished.  Cas let his mind drift back to Sam in the library, then farther back into the Bunker to the dungeon and its current resident…

Again, Cas mentally chastised himself for allowing his thoughts to wander.  Ruefully, he thought of how appalled he might once have been to find himself so easily swayed from a mission. 

Enough.

He had reached his destination.  The alarm had gone off.  It was time to undertake this task.  It was a necessary step if they were to make it to the end they desired.  Of course, Sam was more than capable of carrying out this particular task on his own.  If he had noticed Cas’ departure, he might have been insulted that Cas should take it upon himself to do this instead.  But, much was likely to be asked of Sam in the coming days if they had any hope of fully saving Dean.  Castiel was not human.  Not anymore.  He did not have what was required to help Sam with the final step of this journey.  But even he was capable of doing this much to help.

Carefully, Cas gathered all the needed supplies.  He double-checked that he had everything he needed.  Realizing that he had forgotten a crucial component in the middle would result in quite the mess. 

Focusing his full concentration, Castiel began to assemble the ingredients he’d gathered.  Despite the circumstances surrounding them all, Cas took a strange sense of comfort in his work.  Here, at least, he knew what to do.  If he followed the steps as they had been explained to him, the end result would be what he desired.  It was nice.  Simple.  Even he would be hard pressed to turn this into a disaster.

Cas was nearing the end now.  It was almost complete.  He paused briefly, his hand stilling around the knife he held.  Once it had felt as unfamiliar as the exasperating watch.  But now, he held it as confidently as he did his own angel blade.

Tilting his head, Cas examined the work on the saucer in front of him.  He allowed himself a brief jolt of pride.  The consistency of the peanut butter was perfect, spread evenly over the two slices of bread just as he’d discovered was optimal for the most satisfying taste.

Cas spared a brief, wistful, glance for the grape jelly on the counter before reaching past it for a banana.  He efficiently sliced the fruit and placed the slices on top of the peanut butter, arranged with 1/8 of an inch of space in between them, as the food-based internet blog he had read advised.  After joining the two halves, Cas eyed the finished sandwich with satisfaction, before crossing over to the fridge to pour a glass of milk.

After cleaning up ( _Not my kitchen!  Dude, let’s keep the place neat._ ), Cas picked up both sandwich and milk and, as carefully as he’d held some of Heaven’s most prized artifacts, he carried them back to the library.

Sam was still exactly as Cas had left him.  From this viewpoint, Cas could see the exhaustion writ large in every fiber of Sam’s being.  Always prone to sitting as if to hide his height, Sam now hunched sharply over in his seat, hovering over the books and files in front of him as if they held the key to his very salvation.  In a way, Cas supposed, they do.

Cas walked over to the table and set the plate and glass down in front of Sam, obscuring his view of the page in front of him.

Sam looked at the food in front of him with confusion.  Then he looked up at Cas, his eyebrows drawing impossibly closer together.

“Cas?” he asked, “What's this?”

“A sandwich,” Cas replied, in a matter of fact tone.

"Yeah, I can see that,” Sam replied. “But you’re giving it to me why?” 

"It has been precisely 8 hours and,” Cas glanced down at the watch, “5 and a half minutes since you last ate something.  Medical research would suggest that continuing any longer without some intake of nutrition would cause physical and cognitive impairment.”

Sam stared at Cas open-mouthed as the watch counted off another 20 seconds.

“Um….thanks Cas,” he finally said, “but I’m really not hungry.”

Sam pushed the plate away, and turned his attention back to the file he was reading.

S _mack_!

Sam jumped slightly as the plate appeared in front of him again, this time on top of the writings he was trying to decipher.

“Sam,” Cas said in an even voice, “Eat the sandwich.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, only to snap it closed again. ( _Careful, Sammy!  That’s his_ _Castiel-Angel-of-the-Lord-about-to-smite-a-bitch tone._ )

“You have not been taking care of yourself,” Cas continued.  “You have barely eaten or slept in the last couple of weeks.  Ever since…..”

Cas sighed, his voice gentling. “Yesterday, you were nearly incapacitated by a headache brought on from forgetting to eat.  Running yourself into the ground will not enable us to find a solution to this problem any faster.”

“Yeah, well, I have to do _something,_ Cas!” Sam snapped “We have to _fix_ this!  After everything that happened…Everything I said…” The look Sam turned to Cas was the most guilt-ridden he’d ever seen from the young man (and that’s saying something when the man in question has also been responsible for freeing Lucifer from hell).

“He _believed_ me, Cas,” Sam’s voice was raw.  “Even though I _told_ him I was lying at the end.  He _still_ believed me.  And I can’t.  I mean….Cas…I _have_ to...”

Sam’s breath was coming harsher now, and this wasn’t going at all how Cas had intended it to.  He’d wanted to try and help restore Sam, not bring him further anguish.  Tentatively, Cas reached out a hand and laid it on Sam’s shoulder.

“I know, Sam.”  He waited until the younger Winchester met his gaze again.  “I _know_.  And we will.  But we’ll get there faster if you take care of yourself.  Alright?”

Cas maintained eye contact until Sam gave him a small nod.  Then, remembering Winchester Rule # 4 ( _No chick flick moments!_ ), he gave Sam a slap on the back before moving away.

“Alright, then.  Now eat your damn sandwich!”

A startled laugh had him turning back to Sam, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Wow, Cas.  You really have been spending too much time with us mud monkeys.  You sounded just like…”

Sam cut himself off viciously.  Cas could see the words shrivel and die in his throat as the smile that had bloomed briefly slid off of his face.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, then reached for the sandwich.

“I mean,..um…thanks, Cas.  For dinner.”

“You are welcome, Sam,” Cas allowed, turning once more towards his place at the library table.  As he sat, he heard a surprised hum from Sam.

“Peanut butter and banana?  How did you….”

Sam trailed off as Cas haughtily raised one eyebrow ( _Yeah.  And, that?  That’s his I-know-all-the-secrets-of-time-and-space-and-the-cosmos-or-what-the-hell-ever-don’t-you-think-I-can-guess-your-favorite-sandwich-you-puny-mortal eyebrow_ )

Sam scoffed and bent once more over his pages, before straightening again and self-consciously clearing his throat.

“Seriously, Cas, thanks.  You know…for…” Sam gestured helplessly at the table between them. “Just…thanks.”

Sam smiled again then.  It was a pitiful thing really.  Small and brittle.  But it was genuine.  And as Castiel returned it with a brief upward quirk of his own lips, he felt a small fission of warmth flow through him—warmth that had nothing to do with the Grace slowly burning him out.

As Sam turned back to his research, Cas once more regarded the watch on his wrist.  Strangely, it felt lighter now.  Cas input the required button sequence to set the alarm to go off after 8 more hours had passed.  If he and Sam hadn’t found a solution by the time it rang again, he had a mind to try the “Simple Salmon” recipe the food blog had recommended.  The Omega-3 consumption would certainly benefit Sam, and Cas well remembered the young hunter’s feelings about red meat.

Alarm set, Cas quickly pushed the thought from his mind and pulled his book towards him once more.

They would find an answer before the time ran out.

They had to.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I fool you at all? :P  
> This all came about because I just really like the idea of Cas taking it upon himself to take care of Sam while Dean's not around to do so. What can I say? Sam and Cas are my Brotp and, while I missed Dean and Cas having screen time, I really liked that Sam and Cas got a chance to know one another better in Season 9.


End file.
